Parlor Tricks
by CottageGhost
Summary: The Captain reminisces about an adventure he had on the Barbary Coast.


_Many thanks to both Mary and Kathy for their help and their handholding talents with this one. Much obliged, ladies!_

**_Parlor Tricks_**

"WHERE THE BLOODY HELL IS NATHAN?!?!"

Carolyn rolled her eyes. "I can't start a chapter that way!"

The spirit of Captain Daniel Gregg stopped his pacing to frown at the petite, blonde woman sitting behind the desk with her arms crossed. "And why not? Something wrong with my language again?" He gripped his lapels then, rocking slightly back and forth on his heels. "These are the words I used and it was agreed that this would be an unvarnished account." He smiled slightly. "I assure you, Madam, that it's nothing to blush about."

_He's never going to let me live this down, is he?_ Carolyn thought as she pursed her lips at the tall seaman. Early in the writing of his memoirs, she had balked at the use of a certain word. He hadn't called her a prude outright, but he had thought it loud and clear, she could tell. Obviously, he was thinking the very same thing again. "Daniel, really," she said with a sigh.

His arrogant stance relaxed and his eyes softened, a gentle smile slowly spreading on his lips. "If using foul language brings such music to my ears, then I shall indeed have to alter that use – for the worse," he said softly, a twinkle in his eye.

Carolyn frowned at him, confused. "I don't understand – 'music'?"

"You called me Daniel."

Her answering smile was delightfully shy. "So I did." He had asked her to do just that one evening when they had started working on the memoirs. She had been a little leery of using it, but once she had, there was no going back. The name, when she had first uttered it, had sounded so natural, so _right_, that she couldn't imagine calling him anything else, even though she was still getting used to the idea. Feeling a sudden rush of boldness, she peered deeply into his eyes as she said, "It's music to my ears, too, when you use mine."

He considered her silently for a few moments, obviously caught off guard by her admission. "That is good to know – _Carolyn_," he eventually replied in a low tone. Feeling suddenly embarrassed, he cleared his throat and resumed his pacing. "Now then, as I was saying…"

=====================

"WHERE THE BLOODY HELL IS NATHAN?!?!" the tall seaman roared as he paced angrily by the windows of the well-appointed room, looking for all the world like a caged lion.

"Daniel. _Daniel_." A sigh. "_DANNY!_"

Captain Daniel Gregg came to an abrupt halt and turned stormy blue eyes on the beautiful woman sitting comfortably by the low coffee table at the other end of the room. His blue-eyed glare was greeted by a thoroughly unintimidated smile and a wryly uttered, "I thought that would get your attention." She patted the empty spot on the loveseat she was occupying. "Come, have a seat; wearing a rut in the floor won't make him appear any quicker."

His shoulders sagging slightly as he sighed, the Captain made his way to the black-haired beauty and sat himself by her side, resting his elbows on his knees, looking beyond his joined hands at the intricate patterns of the rug the coffee table stood on. "I'm worried about him, Sadie," he admitted softly.

"I know you are, honey," Sadie replied quietly, rubbing his back soothingly.

A knock at the door nearly made Daniel jump out of his seat. Laying a calming hand on his shoulder, Sadie forced him back down. "You stay right here; I'll get it."

She came back a moment later with one of Daniel's men in tow. "Well?" Daniel immediately asked, unable to sit still any longer.

The newcomer, Jed, gave a nervous sideways glance to Sadie before taking the plunge. "It would appear, sir, that Nathan was... shanghaied."

"WHAT?!?!" Ignoring Jed's slight recoil at his explosive response, the Captain began pacing again, slowly circling the low table like a predator on the prowl. He came to a halt once more in front of his crewman, his eyes slightly narrowed, his voice, when he spoke, quiet and soft -- a sure sign of deep anger. "And just who had the unmitigated gall to kidnap my first mate, pray?"

"Two-Shot Donner, sir."

Daniel's lips flattened into a thin line. "Donner, eh?" Ishmael Donner's reputation was well-known on the Barbary Coast; he had earned the nickname "Two-Shot" because of his own claim that he was always ready to try anything twice. He backed it up in deed, too -- going so far as to kidnap the same men more than once whenever he could manage it. This was the first time he had succeeded in nabbing one of Daniel's men, and as far as the latter was concerned, it was already one too many. "And you have proof positive of that?"

Jed nodded. "Yes, sir. We heard one of his thugs bragging about it at the saloon."

The voice grew quieter still. "Where is he now?"

"In Maarten's room, sir. We figured you'd probably want a chat with him, so we followed him and brought him in for you."

A brilliant smile illuminated Captain Gregg's features. "Officer thinking, Mister Calloway! Excellent!" He clapped the relieved seaman on the back. "Come on; let's go see how our guest is enjoying Maarten's hospitality."

Sadie grabbed his arm before he could even take a step. "Daniel, please be very careful. Donner's arm extends far into this town."

Smiling dangerously, Daniel took her hand and placed a gallant kiss on her fingers. "It doesn't extend nearly far enough to smother my outrage at the moment." He gave her a parting nod as he squeezed her hand lightly. "Don't worry; I'll be back." Turning on his heel, he crossed quickly to the door. "Come along, Jed; let's go see if our 'guest' is in the mood for a little stroll."

=====================

The evening air was still, a small sliver of moonlight barely illuminating the way for the tight group of men walking along the water's edge. Ensconced among them was a burly, grim-faced fellow who was usually the one leading this sort of posse rather than its intended target. His dark eyes darted about a little nervously, trying to gage the mood of the men silently surrounding him. But all kept their faces closed, unreadable, giving him no indication as to their destination or his fate. The worst of the lot was, by far, the leader of the bunch – a tall, broad-shouldered Viking of a man, with hair like fire and eyes as frosty-blue as a frozen fjord. That one hadn't said two words since coming into that room where a burly seaman had been detaining him – the same one who was now holding one of his arms and his collar in a vise-like grip – trying to get information out of him regarding the disappearance of one of their mates. The man smiled to himself; he wasn't new to this game. Others before had tried – as far as he knew, they were all slaving away somewhere on some distant ship, out of sight and out of mind.

His smile faltered as he considered once more the tall man walking in front of him. He had heard a great many things about Daniel Gregg, and had quickly discarded half of what he'd heard as poppycock and hearsay. But he was forced to admit that, even assuming he was right, the half that remained was mighty impressive and made his continued survival far more problematic than he'd like to believe. He found himself gulping when he heard the tall seaman speak for the first time since coming across him. "Mac!"

At the call, the man saw a form detach itself from the entrance to a nearby building and walk toward the group. As the form approached, he was able to make out the features of Captain Tim Magruder, a friend of Captain Gregg's. "Daniel, mate! What brings you to this neck of the woods?" Magruder asked with a smile, extending his right hand to his fellow captain.

Daniel gladly shook his friend's hand, casting a quick, cold glance at his prisoner before replying. "I have a favor to ask, but I'm in a bit of a hurry. Will you help me?"

Magruder nodded. "Sure. Ask away."

Daniel indicated a nearby ship, resting snugly against the pier. "She yours?"

Magruder smiled proudly. "Yep, that's my girl. She's in need of a wee bit of repairs, but nothing drastic." He frowned. "Why? You don't intend to hightail it with her, do you?"

Daniel chuckled. "No, no such thing. But I was wondering if I could borrow one of your yardarms." Again, he turned a cold glare on the man firmly held within the small, tight knot of seamen. "I have some laundry to air." The man gulped again as he heard the group of seamen chuckling darkly in response to their captain's words. He watched, slightly short of breath, as Captain Gregg leaned in close to Magruder to whisper something in his ear, felt his insides clench as Magruder's questioning expression slowly turned into the same cold, unreadable look that was still etched on the face of each and every one of his captors. He suddenly broke into a cold sweat when he saw Magruder once again clasp his friend's hand, then turn back the way he came, his body language clearly saying that no matter what happened this night, the secret would never get out. Tearing his eyes away from Magruder's retreating form, the man found himself staring into cold, cold blue eyes, and a smile every bit as chilling. "Step into my parlor, my dear sir," Captain Gregg purred as he indicated the gangplank leading up to the deck of the nearby ship. A not-too-discreet push propelled the man quickly forward.

Once on deck, one of the seamen nimbly made his way up the ratlines with a coil of rope, throwing one end over the wooden trunk of the yardarm while holding on to the other end. As the man watched, his mouth suddenly dry, another one of the seamen calmly picked up the end of the rope that had just landed nearby and efficiently turned it into a hangman's noose. Forcing a swallow, the man finally opened his mouth to speak. "Look, we don't have to do this. I'm sure we can come to some kind of arrangement – "

Captain Gregg peered at him with a glint in his eyes. "Well, well – our guest seems to have a tongue after all, gentlemen." He brought his face closer. "The only arrangement I'll accept will be the return of my first mate."

"I – I can't do that," the frightened man stammered.

"Well, then," Captain Gregg said softly, lifting the noose to the man's eye level, "that simplifies matters for you considerably, does it not? Gentlemen – "

=====================

"YOU DIDN'T!!!!"

The Captain frowned, his train of thought broken. "What do you mean, I didn't? Of course, I did – I just told you."

Carolyn blew out a sigh. "No, I mean – " The phone rang then, stopping Carolyn in mid-retort. She held up a hand at the scowling seaman. "Hold that thought." She promptly picked up the receiver and turned her back on the Captain, eager to get back to their conversation as quickly as possible.

When she turned around after hanging up, he was nowhere to be seen. A whiff of pipe smoke, blown in by the ocean breeze through the open French doors, led her to the balcony, where she found him gazing at the sea. Sensing her presence, he turned to her even as he drew on his pipe. "Good news, I hope?" he inquired quietly.

She nodded. "That was Mr. Frobisher, the publisher from Boston. He simply wanted to confirm that the second installment of the advance was going to be sent sometime next week. He also wanted to set up another appointment in two weeks to see what we have so far." She gazed at him silently for a beat, suddenly uncomfortable at the thought of telling him what was on her mind. Truth be told, she felt a little ridiculous; she knew his past had had its share of violence – he had fought in the Mexican War; he had battled pirates and smugglers; he had even had a number of run-ins with blockade runners during the Civil War. Rationally, she knew he had had to take lives to defend his own or someone else's. Yet, it made her strangely uneasy to think that he could have been so cold-blooded as to hang a man summarily like that, no matter how deserving that man was. Her inner turmoil must have shown more than she thought, for he suddenly grinned. "You think I killed him, don't you?"

Blushing furiously, Carolyn valiantly stood her ground. "Did you?" she asked as nonchalantly as she could, but fervently praying he would say no.

Still grinning, he puffed on his pipe, eyeing her mischievously. "Tell me, my dear – just how do you think I found out where Nathan was, hmm?"

Carolyn simply looked at him for a moment, befuddled. Then it came to her. "Aahhh…"

=====================

"No, wait!" Before he even knew what was happening, he found himself high up in the air, dangling from his feet, the blood pounding in his ears both from being upside down and realizing that he wasn't about to be hung – not yet, at any rate. His heart kept hammering in his chest as he watched Captain Gregg casually sit on the rail and calmly light a cigar.

"Tell me, my good man," the Captain addressed him conversationally, "have you ever heard of the Naghol?"

The thug had been so prepared to hear threats hurled his way that his brain literally couldn't make sense of the words. "Wh – What?" He shivered as he saw the seaman smile in answer and settle himself more comfortably on the rail, as if he expected to be there for some time. _Oh God!_

"It's a rather interesting ritual performed on Pentecost Island, in the South Pacific," the Captain continued, apparently oblivious to his prisoner's discomfort. "I see you've never heard of it; allow me to demonstrate."

The suspended man suddenly felt his stomach bottoming out as he dropped a number a feet, then felt his whole body shaken by the rope snapping taut again, stopping his precipitous descent. He gulped in great, shaking breaths as he looked at the tall seaman, eyes wide with fear.

The Captain, unmoved, puffed unhurriedly on his cigar. "The purpose of the ritual is to bless the land so it gives a plentiful harvest." His voice, which had been incongruously pleasant so far, suddenly lowered back to that quiet tone his captive had come to see as a bad omen indeed. "It is also a test of courage. Now – will you be reasonable and tell me where my first mate is, or shall I have to test _your_ courage?"

The thug licked his lips nervously, thinking. Without warning, the rope began slipping again, dropping him a few more feet, drawing from him a surprised cry. Breathing hard, he watched as the seaman got up from the rail and took up a position almost directly beneath him. "Wrong answer, mate," Captain Gregg growled, his eyes narrowed at the man. "Just so you know – the next time that rope slips, the deck will stop your fall, nothing else. For the last time – _where is my first mate?_"

There was no doubting the earnestness in those blue eyes. But there were other imperatives the thug had to bow to. "You don't understand – if I tell you, I'll get killed – "

"And just what do you think will happen to you when that rope stops holding you?"

The thug swallowed. "You don't know who you're dealing with," he replied, his voice strained.

"No," was the deadly soft response. "_Donner_ doesn't know who he's dealing with." Silently, the Captain turned his head to cast a look at the seaman holding the rope steady, his intention clear.

"_WAIT!!!!_" Closing his eyes and letting out a ragged breath, the thug finally relented. "He's being held with others in a tattoo parlor on Sullivan Street." Letting out a defeated sigh, he allowed himself to relax. "All right; I've told you what you wanted to know. Let me down."

The look the tall seaman gave him was full of pity. "Come now; after what happened here, you don't _really_ expect me to let you go, do you?" Once more, he turned to the man holding the rope, this time plainly signaling him to let go.

"NO!!!!" Again, that split-second of weightlessness, then the fall began, becoming brutally fast in a matter of seconds. The thug instinctively closed his eyes and moved his hands up to protect himself from the impact, knowing full well the gesture was futile.

The rope snapped taut once more, bringing his fall to an abrupt halt. Carefully opening his eyes, the thug saw that he was swinging a mere two inches off the surface of the deck, the rope tightly secured to the capstan. Overwhelmed, he let out a whimper of relief even as he heard Captain Gregg's words floating toward him as he walked away. "Tell Captain Magruder that his guest is ready to be shown to his overnight accommodations…"

=====================

Carolyn tried to keep her mirth under control, but couldn't stop a giggle from escaping her, which quickly degenerated into a full blown laugh when she saw the Captain quirking an eyebrow at her. "Sorry," she finally managed to say once she had sobered enough to speak normally again. "I just never thought of yardarms being used as a scare tactic like that." Her expression grew more serious. "And I am truly sorry for jumping to conclusions as I did, for thinking that you could… well, you know," she finished quietly, unable to bring herself to say the word, feeling her cheeks grow warm at the thought of the inevitable biting retort she was sure he held in store for her.

Instead, he smiled, having gleaned her thoughts easily. He well knew that certain aspects of his life felt somewhat barbaric to her; she was too much of a lady to admit that, of course, but he was still well aware of her feelings on certain matters. "Quite all right, my dear. It was a natural assumption to make."

Breathing a silent sigh of relief at escaping his rapier wit, Carolyn inclined her head slightly toward the French doors, indicating they should move back inside. As he followed her in, Carolyn found herself smiling wickedly as a thought occurred to her. She was glad her back was still to him. "And what about Sadie?" she daringly tossed over her shoulder, curious to see his reaction.

"What about her?" he asked back as he casually tucked his pipe back into his jacket pocket.

Biding her time a little, Carolyn picked up her pad and a pencil and moved into the chair by the fireplace, feeling like taking notes down by hand for a change. She waited until she was settled comfortably before answering. "Oh, nothing much, really. I'm just curious about her – did she mean a great deal to you, or was she just another not-so-secret admirer like Kathleen?"

He chuckled, obviously greatly amused by her question. "No, Sadie was nothing like Kathleen." The smirk he had worn softened into an appreciative smile. "Actually, she was a lot like you." Seeing by the sudden blush on Carolyn's cheeks that he had hit his mark, he decided to lighten things up and move away from this line of questioning – for the time being, at any rate. His eyes shone merrily as his smile turned mischievous again. "I'm sure the two of you would have gotten on like a house on fire – I shudder to think of the ravages you would have wrought had you known each other." He shivered dramatically to illustrate his point. His only answer was a ball of paper aimed at his head, which he deftly caught and threw into the nearby wastebasket. Still smiling, he asked, "Now, where were we?"

"At the end of someone's rope, as I recall."

Chuckling at the image, he gripped his lapels and began pacing anew. "Quite. Now then…"

=====================

Captain Gregg peered around the corner of the building sitting across from the tattoo parlor his reluctant guest had so helpfully pointed out after his little one-on-one with the yardarm. He pushed his right leg slightly against the inside of his boot, feeling once more the reassuring coolness of the knife blade resting there. Still looking across the street, he reached behind him under his coat and patted the gun one last time, making sure it was tucked in securely. Satisfied that everything seemed in order, he turned to check on his raiding party, made up mostly of his men, some of Magruder's and Sadie. He gave a surprised sputter as he was unexpectedly doused in whisky, and a cheap brand at that. He looked on speechlessly as Sadie casually recapped the small flask she had carried with her and put it back in her purse.

"Confound it, woman!" he finally blurted out angrily, "what in blue blazes do you think you're doing?!?!"

"Making sure you look the part, of course," Sadie replied calmly as she checked to make sure she was looking presentable.

Wiping his face with the back of his hand, the Captain growled out, "And what part would that be, pray?"

"That of a drunken sailor, dear," Sadie answered tolerantly, obviously unfazed by his tone.

"It's SEAMAN, blast it!" came the automatic response.

Sadie merely smiled. "Good – get it out in the open now; you don't want anyone in there to get one up on you just by saying the wrong thing and making you mad."

That brought him up short. Infuriating as he found her tone, he had to concede her point. He couldn't let his temper get in the way of freeing Nathan and the other captives in Donner's clutches. Forcing himself to calm down, he nevertheless refused to grant victory to her openly. Rather than answer her, he turned to the clump of men standing silently behind her, noticing with annoyance a few smirks hastily wiped off as his eyes traveled up and down the group of men. Nodding in satisfaction, he gallantly offered his arm to Sadie and, straightening to his full height, broke cover, walking boldly toward the parlor. The closer he got, the more staggered his walk became, until he was lurching like a drunk. As his foot touched the first step, Daniel cast a quick, devilish look at his men and started booming out the words to _Hearts of Oak_, an old favorite of them all. The men caught on quickly and, smiling every bit as devilishly as their leader, joined in with gusto. Without so much as a pause, he pushed the door open and moved inside.

The front room was small, but well lit. A large, wooden table stood in the middle of it, the only piece of furniture other than a small writing desk and a chair tucked neatly into a corner. Standing by the table was a large man whose arms bore designs from wrist to shoulder, the fingers of both hands stained irremediably with dark ink. He had looked startled when the rowdy group had come through the door, but one look at the tall one in the lead told him he might just have hit paydirt again – Mr. Donner would be very pleased, indeed. "What can I do you for, mates?" he asked amiably.

Daniel slipped his arm possessively around Sadie's waist and pulled her close as he smiled broadly at the big man. "I intend to wed this lovely creature, and I want a memento of the occasion," he answered, a bit of a slur mingling with a thicker brogue.

The big man clapped Daniel on the shoulder. "Good for you, mate! Congratulations – and to you, Madam," he said, gazing leeringly at the beautiful woman before him. "I'll be glad to oblige." He looked over Daniel's shoulder at the group of men standing around. "But I'll have to ask your friends to wait outside; I can't work with all those people standing around here." He glanced once more at Sadie with a speculative smile. "Perhaps the lady would rather step out, as well."

Sadie smiled back, unperturbed. "And miss my chance to see this big oaf begging you to stop? I don't think so," she replied sweetly, smiling up innocently at Daniel.

"As you wish, Madam," the big man said with a nod. "Sir?" he asked, looking pointedly at the men, then at Daniel.

"Right." Turning to the group, Daniel simply nodded, signaling the men to wait out on the porch. He watched as they all filed out, turning back to the big man when the door closed on the last of the group.

"Right this way, mate," the big man said, gesturing toward the table before turning to the small desk, from where he retrieved a tray with his instruments. "What's your pleasure?"

Daniel sat drunkenly on the table's surface, then shrugged. "Why don't you surprise me?"

The big man smiled. "I can do that," he said softly. He turned once more to the desk, where he picked up a small pitcher, the contents of which he poured in a cup. Straightening, he turned back toward Daniel, only to find himself nose-to-nose with the barrel of a lady's gun. "I'll take that," Sadie said quietly with a tight smile, her free hand taking the cup from the big man, her eyes never leaving his face. She brought the cup to her nose to sniff its contents. "Laudanum," she pronounced, shaking her head.

Daniel hopped off the table and joined Sadie in two strides, his act completely dropped. His lips pursed disdainfully as he caught a whiff of the medicinal brew. "Pirates AND cowards, I see," he growled. Pushing the big man against the wall and pressing his forearm into his throat to immobilize him, Daniel motioned to Sadie to go open the door quietly to let the men back in. Easing off the pressure a bit, he leaned slightly toward the man. "Where do you keep your prisoners?" When no answer was forthcoming, the silken sound of metal against leather was heard and the big man soon felt the kiss of cold steel just below his ear. "Now, I am good at a great many things," Daniel said softly, "but beard trimming isn't one of them. That's why I don't bother shaving." He pressed down slightly on the blade, until he heard the man gasp and saw a small trickle of blood slide lazily down the side of his neck. "You wouldn't want me to nick you accidentally, would you?"

The big man shook his head minimally, trying not to rub too hard against the sharp steel. He wet his lips and opened his mouth to speak. He gulped as he felt the knife press threateningly against his skin.

"Softly, now," Daniel advised his quarry quietly, even as his men began moving back inside stealthily.

"They're in the back," the big man whispered, his eyes going briefly to a trap door on the other side of the table. "You have to go down through there to come up the other side."

Daniel's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What about that door there?" he asked, nodding toward the very back of the small room.

The big man swallowed. "There's nothing behind it but a brick wall – you can't go through there."

Daniel eyed the big man silently for a beat before motioning to Maarten to come take his place. Treading as lightly as he could, he made his way to the door and turned the handle; it was unlocked. Sure enough, it opened on a brick façade which had been put up fairly recently, from the looks of it. He closed the door quietly, thinking. Well, that was a pretty kettle of fish. Walking into the tunnel he was sure to find under that door would undoubtedly lead into a trap. Daniel had never had to deal with Donner before, but he knew enough of the man's reputation to believe he wouldn't leave anything to chance – which meant he wouldn't have dug extra tunnels that would make it easy for his prizes to escape. No; this would be a one-way street leading straight into bedlam…

He gestured Jed over to discuss their options. Unhappy as he was about it, Jed had to agree with his captain – the only way out, in this case, was down. He agreed to remain behind and watch Daniel's back as the latter made his way through the tunnel as swiftly as possible with five of the men. Hopefully, that's all that would be needed…

Checking his gun one last time, Daniel nodded at the rest of the men and winked at Sadie with a smile before making his way down the stairs.

Tunnel, Daniel thought in annoyance, may have been too kind a word. A long hole in the ground, perhaps. But a tunnel? He had to stoop considerably to be able to move forward, and he felt his shoulders scrape the sides of it at every step. Escaping through here would definitely not be an option.

After no more than a dozen steps, Daniel felt the toe of his boot catch in the bottom of another staircase. Taking a deep breath and releasing it, he moved up the stairs carefully, trying to make as little noise as possible. He had climbed but three steps before his outstretched hand met wood – another trap door. Sending a silent prayer to whomever might be listening, he pushed against it experimentally – he felt it give under his touch and lift. Encouraged, he climbed up one more step and pushed the trap door open a little more, hoping it wouldn't creak or groan, giving him and his men away. He stopped pushing when the door was sufficiently open for him to take in his immediate surroundings.

It felt like he had found his way by some miracle to one of the large warehouses lining the piers. There were crates, boxes and barrels everywhere he turned, it seemed. Sawdust covered the floor, muffling out the sounds of footsteps. It did nothing for the voices, however; Daniel was able to identify at least three different ones. That didn't mean much, he reflected – for all he knew, there were twenty silent types waiting for him with an ice pick out there…

Letting out a long, slow breath, Daniel burst out of the tunnel and started moving down the rows of cases and barrels even as he took the gun out of his belt, quickly followed by the rest of his small group. As expected, it wasn't long before they were spotted and the battle was joined. The Captain noticed with some amusement that some of their attackers were indeed carrying ice picks. That amusement, however, was short-lived as one of the weapons slashed right through his jacket and found flesh. He groaned in pain, instinctively turning his injured side away from his opponent, who was preparing for another assault. The Captain blocked the incoming blow, then gave his assailant's arm a quick, sharp tug even as he swept the man's feet from under him. Sparing only a glance at the man he had just downed, Daniel kept going, ignoring as best he could the fire in his side as he searched frantically for his missing man. A shrill whistle and a wave caught his attention; it was one of his men, signaling to him to look further behind him as he worked to subdue another one of the toughs blocking their progress. Turning around, Daniel scanned the back of the enclosure, seeing nothing out of the ordinary, until movement beneath a large piece of tarp caught his eye. Keeping his gun at the ready, he approached the mound of canvas carefully and was able to make out the sound of muffled voices coming from beneath it despite the racket of the fight going on behind him. Tucking the gun back into his belt, he lifted the heavy fabric, to find himself looking down into the blinking eyes of his first mate, who was sporting a rather large bruise above his right eye. Daniel quickly removed his gag and reached for his knife as Nathan looked at him in gratitude before looking away in embarrassment. "Sir, I'm sorry, I – "

Daniel shook his head, busy slicing through his friend's restraints. "Never mind that. Are you all right?"

Before Nathan could answer, he felt Daniel's weight falling heavily on him as he was bowled over by a man trying to escape. Nathan helped Daniel to his feet, shouting to the other men, "Don't let him get away, that's Donner!", then took off at a run himself to try and catch his abductor.

Meanwhile, Daniel finished straightening up with a wince and, rather than take off after Nathan, turned back to the trap door he had just burst through and navigated the tunnel as quickly as the narrow passage would allow, then ran out the door, in the hopes of heading off Donner.

Once outside, he stopped before he even took two steps, however, for there lay Donner, spread-eagled and moaning, Sadie standing over him with her now-ruined parasol. She looked up at Daniel as he approached, eyeing him mock-sternly. "I loved that parasol," she said, deadpan.

"I know," Daniel replied with an appreciative smile, shaking his head at the scene before him.

"And I don't want to hear how un-ladylike my conduct was." Sadie looked at the parasol regretfully one last time before tossing it aside without a second glance. "This is coming out of your pocket, just so you know," she continued, unable to hide her own smile any longer. It quickly faded when she noticed how Daniel seemed to be favoring his right side. Her expression turned to one of worry. "You're hurt," she stated, moving closer to him to see the extent of the damage.

Daniel caught her hand before she could touch him and brought it to his lips instead, not wanting any fuss made on his account. "It's just a scratch," he assured her, burying another grimace of pain under an easy grin as he walked toward Donner's prone form. His grin grew feral and a glint appeared in his eye. "So you thought you could steal away with my first tucked under your arm, eh?" he growled softly. He turned to Nathan, who was looking down at Donner with murder in his eyes. "Round out the men, Nathan, and bring them out to the back entrance. I just had a delightful idea how to teach those louts a lesson."

"What about this one?" Nathan asked, looking like he wanted nothing better than to kick the semi-conscious man senseless.

The feral grin returned with a vengeance. "I'll take care of your host personally." Bending down, Daniel grabbed a fistful of the man's coat and hauled him to his feet with a grunt of pain. Donner swayed in Daniel's grip, blinking blearily as his senses returned slowly. Daniel got him moving with a none-too-gentle push. "Come on, Two-Shot; let's see if we can't give you a name change…"

=====================

"That's two coats, you lily-livered filibuster! And you missed a spot – is that what you call a paint job??? Do it over and do it right if you don't want to be missing spots of your own!"

The roar coming from the street made Donner turn slowly, an annoyed sneer on his face. But movement he caught from the corner of his eye drew his attention instead to Nathan, who was sitting on the corner of the same roof Donner was standing on, whistling to himself, nonchalantly turning one end of a long rope into a slip knot and testing it periodically on his wrist. He stopped as he was about to do so yet again to turn a brilliant smile on Donner, just before giving the rope a sharp tug, making it hum with the force of the pull. Donner blanched as he remembered the sound all too well – it was a long way down from the yardarm, and a longer way still from one side of the ship to the other. Ruthless he may be, but stupid, he wasn't. And much as he prized his reputation, keelhauling wasn't something he cared to try twice. He made a quick grab for his brush and, after casting an appraising glance at both Nathan and the flinty-eyed captain watching him like a hawk, bent to his task with renewed vigor.

"Ah, that's better. Now, keep it that way, you sorry excuse for shark bait; I want this church to look as pristine as a saint's… ahem – sorry, Father," Captain Gregg amended quickly as he caught sight of the small priest standing close to him, looking up at him with a quiet smile.

The small man chuckled. "Quite all right, Captain Gregg. I was a chaplain on Navy ships for a number of years; I daresay I heard my fair share of, shall we say, colorful language in my day." He surveyed the work being done, sighing contentedly at the sight before turning back to the tall seaman. "I am truly grateful for all your efforts, Captain; our building was in sore need of help, and it was quite impossible to get all this work done without money. And I'm sure that all the other needy people in town who will receive the loot found in Donner's lair will also sing your praise."

The Captain shrugged, secretly pleased by the appreciative words. "It's our pleasure, Father. Besides, it's only fair – does not the Good Book say that what the Lord giveth, the Lord taketh away? We're only returning what this pirate took without permission."

The small priest absorbed the words in silence, eyeing Daniel for a beat. Then he took his hand and gave it a good strong squeeze. "Heaven WILL return this favor to you one day, my son; trust me." With a nod and a smile, the priest released Daniel's hand and left.

Strangely shaken by the sincerity of the man's last words, Daniel turned his eyes back to Donner, resolved to take the words out again later to examine them in the privacy of his cabin and of his own heart. "Hurry it up, you ninny!", he roared again at the man on the roof. "We have a few more churches for you to work on and this day isn't getting any younger…"

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Carolyn put her pen and her pad down, shaking her head fondly at the specter as she picked up her glass of Madeira. She paused to look at him, wondering for the hundredth time if the mental image his stories brought forth even did justice to the man he had been. "You're a good man, Daniel Gregg," she said softly.

"Unfortunately, I am no longer, my dear" he replied a little sadly. "Neither am I a man, so your affirmation is – "

"If I recall correctly," Carolyn interrupted him gently, "I read somewhere that what we do in this life echoes in eternity." She smiled. "Believe me, Daniel – I know a good man when I see one." She lifted her glass, toasting him. "To your good deed." She was gratified to see him look a little embarrassed by her praise, but pleased for all that. "So, whatever happened to Sadie?" she asked before taking another sip.

"I married her."

Carolyn spluttered, nearly choking on her gulp of wine. "You WHAT?!?!" she asked between coughs.

"My apologies," he said, not looking the least bit sorry. "What I meant was, I performed the ceremony where she got married to Jed, one of my men."

"I see," Carolyn replied, feeling both relieved and ridiculous. "And what became of that tattoo parlor?"

"We took it apart plank by plank and used the lumber to build an extra wing for a local hospital."

"That was good of you," Carolyn said sincerely, touched by his thoughtfulness. A slow smile spread on her lips as a teasing twinkle lit her green eyes. "And you didn't consider getting a tattoo before tearing it down?"

Silently, he walked to where she sat and leaned over her until his hands rested close to hers on the arms of the large chair, effectively trapping her there. "Actually, I did," he revealed softly, his eyes never leaving hers.

"Really?" she replied equally softly, her eyes returning his gaze in full. "Did you get one?"

"Alas, no," the Captain replied, shaking his head regretfully.

"Why not?"

He leaned closer to her still, until his lips rested close to her ear. "I didn't know your initials." He pulled back, then, and with a wink and a smile, he disappeared.

The End


End file.
